Tell Me a Story

by Dallas Schulze

  This had possibly been the worst week of her life. Just when her personal life was demanding more emotional energy than she had to give, her professional life was seeing a surge of unwanted business.

  The elevator was empty for once, and she allowed herself the luxury of leaning against one wall and closing her eyes. If she was honest, it wasn't so much that she was any busier than usual. It was just that her heart wasn't really in it these days. A part of her wondered if it ever had been.

  She pushed the thought away but it refused to be ignored. It wasn't that her work wasn't important, and it could be very rewarding. It was just that.. .just what?

  Just that she had the feeling that she was living her father's dreams and ambitions instead of her own. He'd been the one to direct her toward medical school and she'd done just what he wanted, pushing aside her own desires to please him. Now she was beginning to wonder just how much she'd given up in an effort to make him love her.

  She straightened as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Now was not the time to try and analyze her entire life—past, present and future. She'd think about it later.

  The next chance she had to sit down and think of anything wasn't until late that afternoon. Seated in the staff lounge, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her hand, Ann leaned her head back on the worn sofa and shut her eyes, closing out the buzz of conversation coming from two doctors across the room.

  She was so tired. Not physically tired but mentally tired. Tired of thinking, tired of trying to decide what was right, tired of worrying about what her father wanted. She wanted to get up and walk out of the hospital and never come back. She wanted to go home to Flynn and Becky and shut the door and not come out for a month.

  Home to Flynn and Becky? Was that how she was beginning to think of it? Dangerous thinking. What were they doing right now? Had they gone to the park, or maybe Becky was watching a movie on the VCR and Flynn was doing more of his endless research on the subject of schooling. The new school year had started two weeks ago, but Ms. Davis had agreed that it might be best for Becky to stay home. It was a difficult time for her. Unspoken was the thought that, when they placed her in a foster home, she probably wouldn't be in the same school district that she was now, anyway. Flynn refused to talk about foster homes.

  Flynn. Another subject she'd been avoiding examining. She wasn't sure just what her feelings were, and she was afraid that if she looked too closely she might not like what she found.

  They'd made love. It wasn't something that she could ignore or forget. Once in a while, she would look up and catch Flynn watching her and she knew that he hadn't forgotten, either. Just the memory of that night was enough to make her knees feel quivery. What would have happened between them if Becky's needs hadn't taken precedence?

  The alarm on her watch pinged discreetly and she sat up, downing the last of her coffee and forcing her mind back to her job. Soon, she was going to have to have a long talk with herself. There were a lot of things she needed to think about. Like the direction her life was going; did she want to spend the rest of her life in medicine; and what would it be like to fall in love with Flynn McCallister?

  The next afternoon, she was no closer to answering any of her own questions, but the questions themselves had been pushed aside by more pressing matters. Sitting on Flynn's sofa, she watched him pace back and forth across the living room, his strides full of coiled energy.

  "What time is it?"

  "It's five minutes later than it was the last time you asked. Flynn, she isn't even due for another five minutes."

  "I know. But she might get here early."

  "So you're wearing a path in the carpet for her?"

  He stopped abruptly, staring down at his feet as if he'd only just realized what he was doing. The smile he gave Ann was rueful. He came and sat down in a chair beside the sofa.

  "I'm a little uptight."

  "No kidding."

  "It's just that Ms. Davis didn't give me any idea of why she wanted to see us."

  "Maybe she just wants to check and make sure Becky is all right."

  He shook his head. "She was here three days ago."

  "Did she say anything then that might give you a clue?"

  "Just that they were still looking for Becky's father." He frowned. "I don't know why they're going to all this effort to find him. What kind of a jerk abandons his kid?"

  Ann shrugged. "Maybe there's extenuating circumstances."

  "Ha!" Before he could expand on his opinion of extenuating circumstances, there was a knock on the door. Their eyes met, each wanting some reassurance that neither of them could give. Flynn grinned and lifted his thumb in a cocky gesture of reassurance, but he didn't feel in the least bit secure.

  As he walked to the door, he felt as nervous as if he were walking down the gray corridors leading toward death row. He'd told Joe to send Ms. Davis up when she arrived. Now, he wished he hadn't. If Joe had called first, it would have given him a minute to prepare for whatever she might have to say. None of his feelings showed in his face as he opened the door.

  "Come in, Ms. Davis. It looks like you beat the rain here."

  She smiled as he took her light jacket and hung it in the coat closet. "Early in the season for rain but it does look like we may get a storm before nightfall."

  Flynn followed her into the living room, wishing that he could read something from her face.

  "Dr. Perry, I'm glad you could be here. I hope it hasn't put too much of a crimp in your schedule at the hospital."

  "Not at all." Ann smiled at the older woman and she wondered if Flynn felt as nervous as she did.

  "Would you like some coffee?" He had to force himself to make the polite offer when what he really wanted to do was demand why she was here.

  "No, thank you. I'm sure you're both anxious to know the reason for this visit." She sat down, arranging her skirt over her knees.

  Flynn forced himself to sit down when every muscle in his body demanded action. "Actually, we were wondering. Was there a problem with your visit Monday?"

  "No problem at all, Mr. McCallister. Personally, I've seldom seen any two people more suited to taking care of a child. You've done wonders with Becky."

  Flynn smiled, feeling as if his face might crack with the effort that went into the gesture. "Becky is a terrific kid."

  "All kids are wonderful. Where is Becky?"

  "My mother has her for the afternoon."

  "Good." Ms. Davis smoothed her skirts. "I'm afraid I have some good and some bad news."

  Flynn smiled slightly. "I've always had a healthy distrust of conversations that start out on that note."

  "I'm afraid it won't be possible for you to adopt Becky, Mr. McCallister."

  Flynn kept the faint smile pinned in place, aware of Ann's head jerking toward him. He should have told her what he had in mind. But there was no time to explain it to her now. "I didn't expect a decision so quickly. I can't believe that my reputation is so bad that it would earn me an immediate rejection as parental material."

  "It really has nothing to do with your reputation, Mr. McCallister."

  He leaned forward, his eyes pinning her to her chair with their intensity. "What if I were to get married? Would that help at all?"

  His eyes shifted to Ann. She stared at him, feeling her own eyes widen with shock as she realized what he was thinking. If they were married, it might make it possible for them to adopt Becky. She sat back against the cushions, unable to drag her eyes away, unable to believe what she was thinking.

  He was suggesting that they marry for Becky's sake. It was a ridiculous idea. Gothic. After all, people didn't marry just for the sake of a child that didn't belong to either one of them.

  It was amazing that he could even consider such a thing. It was amazing that she wasn't leaping up and denying any such implication. But what was most surprising was that it hurt to think that he'd be willing to marry her for Becky's sake.

  She wanted him to want her for her
self.

  The thought was so stunning that Ann jerked her eyes away from his, afraid that he might read it in her expression. She stared down at her linked hands, unwilling to even consider the implications of the thought.

  "Your bachelorhood really doesn't make any difference, Mr. McCallister. Adoption simply isn't possible. Becky's father has been located and he wants his child."

  The words fell into a pool of silence, as if each were a small stone, sending out ripples as they hit the water.

  "Her father?" Flynn's voice was dazed. He'd never seriously thought that they'd find the man. "Her father wants her now? Where was he for the last three years? You can't just be a parent when the mood strikes you and then drop it! What's going to happen the next time he decides he doesn't want to be a father? Is Becky going to be sleeping in alleys again? I thought you people were supposed to be concerned that Becky get a good home. And now you're just going to hand her over to some flake who couldn't be bothered with her for the last three years." By the time he finished speaking, he was on his feet, glaring down at the social worker.

  Ann wondered how Ms. Davis could look so calm. Flynn was a more than slightly intimidating figure. The clouds had thickened, leaving the apartment lit with a thin gray light. In his anger, Flynn looked enormous, as if the force of his emotions had given him added size. Electricity seemed to crackle around him. Ann was thankful that his rage wasn't directed at her. Ms. Davis was apparently made of sterner stuff.

  "I understand your concern, Mr. McCallister. And your disappointment. I know that you wanted to adopt Becky yourself and I can tell you that I would have given you my recommendation if Mr. Traherne hadn't turned up."

  "Who's Mr. Traherne?"

  "Becky's father."

  "Traherne? Becky's last name is Sinclair. If this Traherne couldn't even be bothered to marry Becky's mother, how can he lay any legal claim on Becky?"

  "They were married, Mr. McCallister. You see, three years ago Becky's mother left Mr. Traherne and took their child with her. Mr. Traherne has been looking for both of them since but, until our department started a search for Becky's father, he had been unable to locate his wife or his daughter. He did not abandon them."

  Flynn sat down slowly, searching for some flaw in her words. "Why did she take Becky and run? She must have had a reason."

  "According to Mr. Traherne, they had a misunderstanding. His wife disappeared before they could clear the misunderstanding up."

  "She must have been afraid of him to run like that."

  "Mr. Traherne's reputation is impeccable. He's a doctor, the Traherne family has been in Denver for over seventy-five years and they are all respected members of the community. We feel that it's in the best interests of the child if she can be with her natural father."

  Ms. Davis glanced at her watch and reached for her briefcase. "I have another appointment in half an hour. I assume it's all right with you if Becky stays here until her father arrives. He should be here day after tomorrow."

  Flynn roused himself at her words. His smile was strained but he stood up to show her to the door. "I want to thank you for the work you've done on Becky's behalf, Ms. Davis."

  "It's my job, Mr. McCallister." Her fingers were warm and dry as they shook hands. "You've done wonders for that little girl. She's very lucky to have met you."

  "Oh, I don't know. I feel like I'm the lucky one."

  "You'll make a wonderful father when you have children of your own."

  He smiled and shut the door behind her. Behind him, he could hear Ann neatening the stacks of children's books that were scattered over the coffee table. He stood in the dim hallway and looked at the wreckage of all his plans.

  He was losing Becky. No more horrible coffee, no more trips to the park, no more bedtime stories. The thought brought a hollow ache to his gut. She'd wound her small fingers into his heart and it was going to hurt like hell to pull them loose.

  With Becky gone, what was going to happen to his relationship with Ann? Becky was the catalyst that had brought them together. Most of their time had been spent with Becky in tow. They'd had so little time together. He didn't have to close his eyes to remember the one night they'd spent together. The feel of her in his arms, the scent of her on his pillow, those were things that were with him every minute.

  When Becky left, would Ann still want to be with him or was he going to lose her, too?

  ❧

  The next two days were strained. Flynn and Ann had decided not to tell Becky about her father. If there was some mistake, there was no sense in getting her hopes up only to have them dashed. There'd been enough disappointments in her young life.

  Every time Flynn looked at Becky, he was reminded of how little time was left. Every time he looked at Ann, he saw so many questions that he was afraid to ask.

  There was so much left unsettled between them, things that had nothing to do with Becky. Where was their relationship going to go once Becky was gone? They'd made love and then circumstances had parted them as firmly as if they'd been on different continents. Since the death of Becky's mother, there'd been no opportunities to think about the two of them.

  Ann had never mentioned his oblique suggestion that they marry in order to adopt Becky. Flynn wondered if she had been mortally offended or if she'd understood and shared his desperation. He wanted to ask her about it, but there never seemed a moment when they could really talk. Or, perhaps, they were both afraid to find out what would happen when they finally didn't have Becky to serve as both link and barrier between them.

  But she wouldn't be there much longer. What then?

  ❧

  The day Becky's father was supposed to arrive, Ann stayed home from the hospital. The sudden showers that had drenched southern California had given way to more typical sunshine. It was the kind of weather that made visitors to L.A. wonder why anyone would ever live anywhere else. Flynn was not impressed.

  All he could think about was the meeting with Traherne. Father or not, he wasn't turning Becky over to the man until he was sure she'd be cared for. Ann occupied herself in the kitchen, baking endless batches of cookies and burning every other panful. Becky had opted to play on the balcony, losing herself among the greenery.

  When Joe buzzed up from the lobby to say that there was a Mr. Traherne here, Flynn felt as if the world had come to a halt. He hadn't realized how much he'd been hoping the other man wouldn't show up until this moment.

  "Send him on up, Joe."

  He turned from the intercom and met Ann's eyes, reading the same uncertainties that he was feeling. He forced himself to smile, wanting to ease some of the tension from her face.

  "Hey, how bad can he be?"

  The knock on the door came before she could say anything. Flynn gave Ann a thumbs-up and went to answer the door. Ann couldn't make herself follow him. What if Becky's father turned out to be a blustering, obnoxious creep? How could they let Becky go with someone like that? How could they let Becky go at all?

  There was a murmur of male voices as Flynn answered the door. Ann had only a second to offer a garbled prayer, not even sure what she was asking for.

  "Ann, this is Rafferty Traherne, Becky's father."

  Ann offered her hand to the man next to Flynn, trying to keep her surprise from showing in her face. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Someone not quite so large and ... She reached for the right word to describe him and finally came up with solid. Rafferty Traherne was definitely solid.

  The first surprise was his hair. For some reason, she'd expected him to share Becky's pale gold coloring. But his hair was gray. Not sprinkled with gray but solid steel. The color was unexpected, the more so when it was easy to see that he was still in his early thirties.

  At six foot tall, he had none of Flynn's lean whipcord strength. He was built like a bulldozer. Broad shoulders and hands that swallowed her own fingers. There was nothing here that reminded her of Becky's delicate bone structure. Nothing to show that he was related at all until she loo
ked into his eyes. They were the same clear gray as his daughter's. And they gave her that same feeling that they could look right into her soul. Something told her that this man would not be easy to lie to.

  "How do you do, Mr. Traherne."

  "Please, call me Rafferty. I understand you've been taking care of Becky." His voice matched his body. Deep, dark and strong.

  "Well, between the two of us, Flynn and I have been looking out for her."

  "I appreciate it." His eyes flicked away from her, and Ann knew immediately what he was seeking.

  "Becky is outside. We thought it would be best if we had a chance to talk to you before the two of you met."

  "Of course." If he was impatient to see his daughter it was impossible to read it in his face, but Ann suspected that Rafferty would never be easy to read.

  "Why don't we have a cup of coffee. I know you must have a lot of questions." She looked at Flynn and he nodded.

  "Good idea. Have a seat, Traherne. I'll get the coffee."

  He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ann alone with their guest. She led the way to the fireplace grouping, seating herself on the sofa and watching him sink into one of the chairs. Like Flynn, he dominated the overstuffed piece of furniture without effort.

  "How is Becky? All they told me was that she was in good health."

  "Becky is wonderful. She's bright and very mature for her age."

  Flynn came in, setting a tray of cups on the coffee table. "Becky is a great little girl. She deserves a solid home."

  Ann flushed at the edge of hostility in his voice, but Rafferty seemed to take it in stride. "I never intended for her to have anything else. I can understand your concern. From what Ms. Davis told me, you've done an awful lot for Becky."

  Flynn picked up a coffee cup and settled into the other chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He was the picture of total relaxation, and Ann wondered if it was her imagination that made tension seem to hum around him.

  "I found Becky sleeping in the alley behind this building. She'd been on the street for three or four days and she'd been alone for two weeks before that. She's a hell of a gritty kid."